TRAPPED

To the Captain's anxious inquiries the fliers replied that they had

returned early on account of the cold. Although sorely disappointed

that Edith had not discovered another oil-hole for him, Anderson said

nothing. He contented himself with putting Ole to the dirtiest job in

sight. Lane was far inland, superintending the caching of stores. Drake

had gone off somewhere to exercise his beloved dogs.

Edith and Ole conspired to keep their find to themselves until they

should have explored it thoroughly. They began to regret their panicky

flight straight back to the ship. Tomorrow, however, they would keep

their nerve and spend a heavenly day investigating the abode of the

dragon. A landing in the open should be sufficient protection from a

surprise. By avoiding clumps of brush, rock piles and the pampas they

might see much before being chased.

That evening they gathered in the Captain's cabin. The Doctor, having

unpacked his scientific paraphernalia, was absorbed in an attempt to

analyze the green venom which he had collected from the giant reptile

on the beach. The scanty equipment proving insufficient he put away his

test tubes with a sigh of disappointment.

"I shall have to wait for a living victim."

"Let me see your flask, Doctor," Ole begged.

"Have you a theory?" the Doctor laughed, handing over the pint of

thick, evil, green fluid.

"Not this time. But I have a knife."

To the astonishment of the party Ole proceeded to anoint the eight-inch

blade of his murderous knife with the sticky green venom.

"There," he said complacently, brandishing the knife to dry it, "nobody

gets fresh with me any more."

"It may be harmless," Edith remarked with a meaning look. "You had

better not put too much faith in that messy stuff."

"I'll chance it."

As he spoke he unconsciously fixed his eyes on Anderson. The Captain

stirred uneasily.

"Look here, Ole, I set you at that job this afternoon because all the

men were away with Lane."

"That's all right, Captain." Ole was not going to let his accidental

advantage slip. "It gave me a touch of lumbago. Can Bronson take my

watch tonight?"

"I'll take it myself if he can't. With lumbago like that you're not fit

to be on deck. Will you be able to fly tomorrow?"

"Flying rests my back. I'll be better in a week or two."

Edith rose to retire. As she went out she shot Ole a significant

glance. Mumbling an excuse he followed her.

"Why not take a revolver tomorrow?" she whispered.

"No use. I couldn't hit the side of the ship at ten yards."

"But suppose we do get caught again? That stuff may take hours to act.

I doubt whether it is a poison at all. Father really knows nothing

about it."

"What can we do? A guess is better than nothing. Besides, I don't mean

to get caught."

"Neither do I. Oh, that awful brute. I shall have a ghastly nightmare.

Good-night, Ole."

They were off at sunrise in the stinging cold. Drake for a spell at

breakfast had grown quite peevish, not to say profanely rude, when Ole

harmlessly asked him to pass the butter. The memory of what Drake

had said was food and warmth to Edith on the freezing spin south.

Having nothing to cheer him but the shadowy prospect of sticking an

over-developed lizard with wings in the gullet, Ole froze. It was with

reckless relief that he shed his sealskin when at last they landed.

Today they had come down in the centre of a five mile meadow. Unless

the enemy flew they were safe.

Ole had brought the Captain's strongest binoculars. With these he

now slowly swept every mile of the vast precipices, blue in the hazy

distance. On each of the six sapphire shadows he lingered a full five

minutes. The dim shadows, he decided, might be weather stains on the

cliffs. If nothing more a three thousand foot stain should be worth

investigating.

"You take a look, Miss Lane."

"Those are caves full of mist," she said decisively, handing back the

glasses. "Which one shall we try first?"

"The nearest. That one to the southeast. If we don't like what we find

this is a good place to fall back on."

"You think we may wish to turn tail in a hurry?"

"We can't tell," he said uneasily. "I am no coward."

"Of course you are not. Neither am I. Shall we go?"

"My eyes are better than yours, Miss Lane. Remember, I have been half

my life at sea."

"Well?"

"I thought I saw things moving at the base of those cliffs. They were

only shadows."

"Afraid of a shadow, Ole?"

"Yes," he admitted frankly. "Show me something real and I'll fight it

like the next man. Put me up against a nightmare the devil himself

never dreamed of and my legs turn to water. Now you know how I feel."

Impressed by his outspokenness she held out her hand for the glasses.

Long and curiously she searched the base of the cliff.

"I believe you are right. There is something over there at the foot of

the precipice. How far away from it are we?"

"About twenty-three miles."

"Even if the shadow were an elephant's we couldn't make it out at that

distance."

"Not with these glasses," he admitted.

"Has it struck you that those moving things can't possibly be shadows?"

"Why not?" he queried nervously.

"Because that whole sector of the cliffs is itself in deep shadow."

"I hadn't thought of that," the unpractical builder of theories

admitted. "Are you going on?"

"Yes."

"No woman ever got the better of me yet, and I'm damned if a kid in

short skirts is going to make a monkey of me now."

"Ole!"

"Oh, it's all right, Miss Lane. The Captain isn't here."

"You behave yourself or I'll leave you with the reptiles."

Flying as slowly as was possible they cautiously approached the

mysterious stain on the southeastern wall. At that hour of the morning

the shadow of the precipice lay in a great blue crescent on the valley

before them. Soon entering the shadow they experienced a sudden drop in

spirits. To the superstitious Ole the semi-twilight was a gloomy omen

of disaster.

Edith began to wish she had been less daring. Hating to back out after

her bold front to Ole she kept her forebodings to herself. Nevertheless

she had a strong premonition of trouble. The thought that the motor

might fail them at a critical moment almost made her sick. Swallowing

hard she anxiously scanned the terrain for a safe landing place. To her

joy she observed a gentle three mile grassy slope from the base of the

precipice to the edge of the pampas.

They were now near enough to make out the nature of the stain. It was

indeed what they had first guessed, a colossal archway over half a mile

high in the face of the sheer cliff. Smoky with blue mist it might

have been either a huge cave or the entrance to a tunnel under the

continent. If the latter, Edith made a sudden resolution to explore it

to the end--some day. At present she felt too shaky. Her nervousness

soon received a shock that acted as a counter irritant.

Ole had been making efficient use of the binoculars.

"Let me have the wheel," he said presently, "while you take a look with

the glasses."

They were now within five miles of the cliffs. Although it was not

exactly a sane proceeding, they changed places in mid-air. Ole now

became the pilot and Edith the observer.

Her first observation stopped her heart for two sickening seconds. The

green slope at the base of the cliffs was a crawling den of gigantic

monsters. The huge, torpid beasts blundered and crawled over one

another's sluggish carcasses like blind salamanders. Evidently they

were just awakening to greet the sunlight which in a few hours would

stir them into activity. The vast cave or tunnel no doubt was their den

and breeding place.

"Fly lower," Edith ordered, "and let us see what the brutes look like."

Her stomach had resumed its normal position.

Without the flicker of an eyelash the stolid Ole obeyed. No snippy

kid in short dresses could outdare him. He dropped sharply to the

fifty-foot level, let out the motor to its limit and shot straight as a

bullet toward the misty cavern. Edith shrieked. She had met her master.

The droning roar of the propeller roused the lethargic brutes to a

trumpeting rage. A hideous forest of writhing necks shot up; flat,

brainless heads swayed up to spit their hatred and their venom at the

breaker of their bestial sloth, and the obscene red membranes of the

huge brutes' aborted wings clattered impotently against their bloated

bodies. The fetid stench of their breath mingling with the reek of

their foul lair defiled the morning with an unforgettable sickness.

A flashing vision of innumerable eyes red with brainless ferocity,

a din of yellowed fangs clashing after their unattainable prey, the

penetrating breath of a living decay, and the hideous flight was a

memory.

Was Hansen insane? Again Edith shrieked as he shot full speed into the

blue mists of the cavern. Shutting her eyes she instinctively braced

herself for the obliterating crash.

It never came. Whether or not she fainted she doesn't know. Ole swears

she did.

When she opened her eyes she thought for one wild moment that she was

in hell. The blue mists had given way to a rapidly flickering crimson

glow. The oppressive heat all but stifled her. Great gushers of flame

thundering up from the floor of the vast tunnel flattened and curled in

fronded fire over the arched rock half a mile above. Down the endless

distance colonnades of pillared flames dwindled in vistas of alluring

terror, enticing the damned to their torments.

Ole had been less rash than he seemed. While Edith was taking her fill

of the den over which they shot he, like a born navigator, was minding

his own business. As the blue entrance of the tunnel rushed forward

to meet him he saw that its interior was approximately straight and

sufficiently well lighted for safe flying. The chance he took was

negligible. A mile from the entrance he sighted the first flaming well,

and thereafter the tunnel became a well lighted corridor, broad and

lofty, ideal for rapid flight. Danger of a collision with one of the

roaring flame pillars was nil, the highway down the tunnel being over a

mile broad and the avenue of flame wells at least half a mile wide at

its narrowest point.

Those three thousand foot pillars of flame were absolutely without

smoke. Ole's reasonable theory--inadequate, as later events

proved--made them vast natural gas jets. He recalled that there are on

record in Asia oil wells and escapes of natural gas which have been

flaming continuously for over two thousand years. Therefore, he said,

this probably was the same sort of thing on a much grander scale. The

age-long action of water opening fissures in the rocks had first let

vents into the subterranean oil and gas reservoirs. Then the heat of

chemical reactions between the water and the minerals in the rocks had

ignited the gas. This detail of his theory led him seriously astray.

Had he chanced upon the true explanation of how those gas pillars took

fire--which any competent physicist would have guessed at once from the

peculiar behavior of the flames over the blowholes which Anderson had

discovered--he would not have rushed like a fool into the trap which

nature had prepared for him.

Granting the ignition of the gas the astute Ole reflected that the

rest of the inferno explained itself. Intense heat and the constant

high pressure of escaping gas had enlarged the first vents into huge

circular wells, up which the solid flames shot until they impinged on

the rock roof three thousand feet above. Doubtless, he reflected, the

red hot rocks up there were constantly flaking. In time an avenue of

blowholes would burst through the roof of rock and ice for some later

explorer, far in the future, to find and wonder over. He inferred

naturally that under Anderson's trough of blowholes there probably

extended another vast tunnel through the solid rock. The six shadowy

arches which he and Edith had observed on the wall of their circular

valley no doubt were all of one kind. The continent must be, in this

strange region, a vast rabbit warren with tunnels branching in all

directions, some even to the sea.

At this point of his meditations Ole experienced his first qualm. Those

other blowholes onto which the party had blundered differed in one

significant respect from those which the future explorer of his musings

was to discover. The escape of gas and flames through the first was

intermittent and its period strangely regular. The periodicity of the

first blowholes was the disturbing peculiarity. These gushing wells of

fire in the tunnel seemed to be continuous. Did they ever go out like

the others? Ole's imagination leapt ahead of the racing machine. What

if those pillared flames should suddenly drop down their vents and

disappear? In the dark he must smash himself against the tunnel wall

like a ripe tomato.

This squeamish reflection passed from his mind to make way for another.

One detail of his inadequate blowhole theory received a sudden and

disconcerting confirmation. Half a ton of red hot rock shattered itself

with a crash on the floor of the tunnel not a hundred yards to the

right of his course. The whole roof must be cracking under the fierce

bombardment of flames from those thousands of gigantic blast furnaces.

For the first time he now noticed the stifling heat of the tunnel.

The rushing air positively scorched. What if his petrol tank should

explode. And what if a red hot fragment of stone set fire to the

airplane? Ole began to sweat from a combination of too many clothes,

too much heat and too little nerve. He was not having the best time in

the world. Nevertheless he shot on like a courageous fool at a hundred

and twenty miles an hour down that vast tunnel into the bowels of the

earth. No snippy little kid in short dresses should make a monkey of

him.

The kid had recovered her senses. She was having a heavenly time. Her

one regret was that her father had not seen all those nice beasts. She

must take him back an egg if the beasts were that sort.

The air in the tunnel began to grow faintly smoky. They were not over

an hour from the entrance. Consequently at least a hundred and twenty

miles lay between them and daylight.

The same thought occurred to the pair: they should now be nearing the

vicinity of the smoke-filled crater which they had discovered first.

Theorizing rapidly Ole concluded that the tunnel joined these two,

the ruined crater and the vast depression still green as a paradise.

Doubtless the explosion of a huge reservoir of oil beneath the first

had sent its floor skyward to litter the surrounding desolation with

chunks of black rock. Then, he speculated, had the first also been a

den of prehistoric monsters--or, as Lane maintained, botched imitations

of such--before its destruction? It had.

The verification of Ole's speculation was twofold and twice convincing.

Like a dead memory from a forgotten existence a nauseating stench

assailed their nostrils. They remembered that moonlit night on the

Antarctic ocean and the soul destroying pollution of the winds from the

beach of monsters.

Presently through the thickening smoke they saw the shambles. The

tunnel was all but blocked by the rotting carcasses of huge brutes

which had trampled one another to pulp in their panic to escape the

fumes which finally suffocated their multitudes.

Cutting out the engine Ole glided toward the mountain of decay. Just as

he turned the plane to escape from the immense corruption he spied the

second confirmation of his theory.

Great, slow-moving brutes, each the bulk of three full grown

hippopotami, mailed in horn and with a ridge of jagged armor sticking

up along their spines from the flat, broad head to the tip of the

thirty-foot tail, were crawling like huge newts over the rotting

mountain, or splashing heavily through the foul brown ooze from its

base.

These gigantic scavengers took no notice of the intruders, continuing

with voracity their filthy feasts. The whole decaying pile crawled with

them. Their number could only be guessed, for the end of the tunnel was

invisible through the murky smoke. For all the explorers definitely

knew, they might be one mile or twenty from the ruined crater.

They decided it was time to fly. Both felt faint from the awful

stench. Ole let out the engine to its limit. The sudden roar startled

a flapping horde of lesser scavengers which they had not seen. Being

almost the color of their obscene food these had escaped notice in

the murky light. They now arose in thousands, cloud upon cloud of

long-necked reptilian "birds" with the wings of bats. From tip to tip

the spread of their leathery membranes averaged a good eight feet, and

on each six-foot neck a grinning head the size of a horse's stretched

hungrily forward. Hard round eyes like those of gigantic serpents

stared stonily at the intruders, estimating their value as food. The

six-inch teeth clashing aimlessly at nothing filled the air with a

hideous cacophony.

Either their own foul banquet was more to their taste or the reptilian

birds were by nature peace loving scavengers averse to combat, for they

contented themselves with flapping round and round this unknown bird

of the twentieth century. Their lineage went back millions of years;

this parvenu was an infant yesterday. With hard stares of contempt they

circled back in wide spirals to their interrupted repast.

Thanking Heaven for this deliverance, Edith breathed again. But her

thanks were premature. A strangely familiar rumbling was but the

prelude to a remembered thunder of subterranean explosions. She knew

what was coming.

So did Ole. Anticipating it he cut out the engine and dipped gradually.

Taking the desperate chance that no considerable mass of shattered rock

littered the floor immediately ahead he brought the plane down. Luck

favored him. They came to rest whole on the rocky floor.

They climbed hastily out. The jarring under their feet all but threw

them prostrate. They heard the sudden suction of the rushing whirlwinds

rushing down to the subterranean chambers, and saw what they dreaded.

As if struggling for their life with the demon winds the pillars of

descending flame quivered for an instant in mid-air. Then with a

knelling roar they disappeared in absolute night down the wells.

13